Candy Coated Hatred
by Sunburned-Stickperson
Summary: Shaun pulls together a small birthday present for Desmond after stumbling across a disturbing picture from Abstergo. It really was too easy since Ezio's grudge-holding has bled into Desmond.


**Part two, page seventeen. XD Another little story.**

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><p>Shaun stared in horror at the picture in front of him. He examined it closely as if it where Photoshopped or something. He exhaled slowly and leaned back in the chair he had been using to sort through the stuff Lucy had finally thought to organize from Abstergo. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.<p>

Desmond did not look as if he were enjoying himself. Quite the opposite, Shaun was inclined to believe, as his eyes raked over the guard from Abstergo clearly molesting the boy—and he looked ready to die. The guard was more than enjoying himself as he felt Desmond up, his filthy hands running all over his body. He didn't dare examine the guard closer.

Shaun couldn't help but wonder if Desmond held a grudge. The man had gotten progressively worse about holding grudges for even the smallest things—and the team blamed it on Ezio and the Bleeding Effect. He was tempted to go ask him about the pictures and give him a hug, but the new assassin would probably rip him to pieces. He knew that Desmond still had pride and being treated like that would piss him off.

His eyes looked the picture over once more, and he looked toward the calendar. Desmond's birthday was in a week. He'd have to act fast. He turned to look at Rebecca, who felt his stare immediately, and she pulled off her headphones and looked at him.

"Yeah?"

"Do you still have that working model of the rifle?"

"The one Desmond was interested in when we stumbled on an American Revolution memory glitch? Yeah, why?"

Shaun looked back at the picture. "I think I may need to use it."

"What for?"

"Patience is a virtue, Rebecca."

It was a week later before she found out, when Desmond went to go outside on his birthday. The rifle had mysteriously disappeared from her room, and when she confronted Shaun, the man dismissed it as if he hadn't done it. Rebecca accompanied him for a breath of fresh air, and they were walking around the building, enjoying the night, when they saw Shaun's back, he was leaning on something and staring at the skies.

"Shaun?" Desmond asked.

The man looked over his shoulder, pulling a cigarette out from between his lips and releasing the puff of air into the sky.

"Hello, Desmond."

They both must have looked confused because Shaun straightened and turned to face them. He tapped the end of the cigarette and let the ash fall.

"Forgive my smoking habits. I felt particularly overwhelmed today with helping the team in Moscow, so I stole one from the pack Lucy confiscated from me all that time ago."

"I didn't know you smoked," Desmond responded.

"There's a lot you don't know," he said smugly as he stomped out his cigarette, and the new assassin looked ready to kill, "like the fact that I have a birthday present for you."

"So you did take my model gun!" Rebecca shouted, and Shaun pulled it from behind him, where it had been stuck in the ground.

With a flashy show of footwork and gun wielding, he ended with a well-timed thrust, the tip of a bayonet lightly poking Desmond's chest.

"Still interested in learning how to use it?"

Desmond looked impressed as Shaun met his gaze. He gave a smug grin. "Yeah. Show me how."

Shaun nodded once and straightened, throwing the rifle to him. He caught it easily and mimicked how Shaun held it.

"Right, now, follow me."

"I've got to see this," Rebecca said. "How did you know how to use it?"

"I learned attending reenactments of old battles. They were some of my favorite things to go to as a child."

They walked off a bit before coming upon wooden post with a dummy tied to it. There was a little light from the lantern sitting next to the post, enough to see a burlap sack over the head and the limp posture of the figure. Desmond snickered at the practice target.

"Actually," Shaun began as he walked to the dummy and slapped it, hard, across the face, "it's a present from both me and the team in New York."

The dummy stirred, and Desmond's eyes grew wide. Rebecca was shocked. Shaun undid the sack over its head and pulled it off, and he could hear the snarl from the new assassin.

"I have an interesting fact for you three."

All eyes were on Shaun, even that of their captive, who was bound and gagged. When he noticed Desmond, he trembled and tried to wiggle free.

"Did you know, that during World War Two, the Japanese soldiers were labeled the worst of them all because of their customs and traditions, which were deemed cruel and inhumane?"

"What does that have to do with this thing?" Desmond spat.

"Patience, Desmond. You need to learn why I've given you such a gift. You still hold a grudge against this man, correct?"

He nodded vigorously, clutching the gun tightly. Shaun pulled out another cigarette and lit it, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"One such practice, used on men from China when they invaded, was to teach the new recruits how to use a bayonet, such as the one on the end of the gun there." The captive actually pissed his pants as Shaun took another drag. "However, the poor buggers were not that skilled, and the prisoners on the receiving end of the bayonet often died horrible deaths. This weapon is not like any knife or sword you've used before. Still care to learn?"

Rebecca looked agape at Desmond, who snarled a "Hell yes" and stepped forward to Shaun. Rebecca gagged and backed off.

"You don't have to watch, Miss Crane," Shaun said drily, showing Desmond how to properly hold the gun. "And it will be clean before you get it back."

"Just keep it," Rebecca said as she turned and fled inside.

Shaun took another drag and looked at Desmond's scowling face.

"Cheer up, mate. This is your birthday present."

Desmond looked confused, then glanced at Shaun, who had a smug smirk. He couldn't help but grin.

"Thanks."

"It was little problem to me. Send a thank you card to the New York team for capturing your molester. Right, now, lower the gun to your hip. One hand goes on the neck, the other on the butt. No, here."

He let Shaun adjust his grip.

"Like that, think you have the feel?"

The captive man whimpered.

"Yes, well, you should have thought twice about what you were doing. Thanks to Ezio, he holds grudges. Now," he took the gun and held it, and slowly lunged forward. "This is how they did it. Lunge forward, in, turn, out."

He ran through the motions several times slowly, letting Desmond watch him as he brushed the blade against the prisoner's side.

"Think you've got it?"

Desmond nodded, greedily taking the gun from his "mentor" and holding it properly. Shaun took another drag, let it out, and put the cigarette between his lips as he took out a permanent marker from his pocket and opened the captive's shirt.

"Here," he marked a "20" on the heart, "is ideal. And here," he marked a "10" on either lung, scowling at the man's sweaty chest and heavy breathing, "is good, but it won't kill him for a while. These spot," he drew several fives over various organs on the torso, "are nice, but they won't kill him."

"I don't want to kill him," Desmond said, frowning.

Shaun rose and took another drag, flicking the ash off. "Aim to kill. I can guarantee you won't. You're learning, so you won't be the best."

Desmond nodded and adjusted his grip, listening to the quiet whimper of the man. With a cry, he lunged forward, feeling it sink into the gut of the man, who tried to scream, but was muffled by the gag.

As he pulled back, Shaun looked at it and shook his head, stepping to the side of the captive. "Not good enough. Again."

Desmond repeated the action, scowling when he grazed the man's shoulder.

"Failure is not an option, Desmond; do it again."

He grinned when he sit solid flesh. "I think I've got a new stress reliever."

"Yes, well, make sure you use a Templar," Shaun said as he took another drag, looking at the wound. "You didn't even come close to hitting the heart. Again. Try harder."

He nodded and repeated the motions every time Shaun demanded it. When he finally hit the heart, the man was all ready dead. He grinned at Shaun, who smiled.

"Congratulations, Desmond. You killed him after he was dead. Looks like we'll have to find you another target, hm?"

Desmond grinned widely. "Yeah, looks like you will."


End file.
